The Gotham People Magazine
by Hirosikata
Summary: So, Bruce Wayne... how does it feel to be on the top of Gotham's Sexiest Man list? Congrats. Must feel good knowing that women see you as a slab of meat with a tight butt." "So you've been looking at my butt?" BruceOC. A darker look at Robin's name.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters (except for Robin, who is my own original character, _Gotham People Magazine_, and said magazine's workers, the Menia) Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, or The Fresh Prince of Bel- Air, or Matt Damon (not that he's copyrighted or anything). Remember to read, review, and enjoy!

To: rgrayson

From: mikesmith

Subject: Interview

Robin,

You told me that you wanted an interview and I'm giving you an interview. Don't screw this up. Our biggest issue of the year is coming out: Gotham's Sexiest People. You lucky little screw up get what is being considered one of the best interviews of the issue: the one on the elusive Bruce Wayne.

This may not have been what you were asking for when you said that you wanted to do an interview, but it's what you're getting. In the attachment there's a list of the standard interview questions that we want you to ask. Branch off of the questions if you must, but don't go too deep into his personality and beliefs. Our readers don't want to know the deep stuff; they want their celebrities at face value, especially those like Mr. Wayne.

Your interview is today at three. Be there early if at all possible. In fact, try to be as early as you can possibly be.

Mike Smith

--

Robin stared at the e-mail before snorting. Of course she would get the lovely job of interviewing the man whom women everywhere were calling 'The Bachelor of the Year'. She couldn't say that she wasn't grateful, though. Up until now, she only did short little paragraphs for the magazine that hadn't even covered a page. At the most, she only got a couple of inches (pictures included). This was sure to get at least a two-page spread, if not more. He was considered as hot as Matt Damon, as far as far as Gotham women were concerned. He was their sexiest man.

"What did your boss want this time," one of her roommates, Hailey Bosnick, asked.

Robin turned around and shrugged before saying, "He wants me to do an interview with Bruce Wayne."

"Really! That's great," she took a small sip of her coffee. "I mean, isn't it great? With an opportunity like this, you can really put your journalism skills to good use, probing Wayne's brain for anything that could be considered relevant and interesting. This could be a real hard-hitting story!"

She couldn't keep the smile off of her face. Hailey was the type of girl who always liked to look on the bright side of things. The girl didn't really seem to realize that there was a huge difference between hard-hitting and Bruce Wayne.

"Not really. Smith said that my job was to take him at face value and to only write about the things that women want to know. That does not include his views on… anything. I think that it will more of be based around what his favorite food is or something."

"Oh, come on, this will be fine. Hey, maybe it will even be a little bit fun! Who knows, maybe you'll come out scoring a date with the man."

There she went again with that happy, over-optimistic viewpoint.

"I don't think that I'd want to be taken out on a date with him. He'd probably invite another girl or two along for the ride."

Hailey giggled, but didn't deny anything. If one thing was known for certain about Bruce Wayne, it was that he nearly always had two girls hanging off of his arms at social functions. Instead, she said, "While you're there, look at his butt."

"Why," Robin asked.

"I hear that it's nice."

Robin let out a short laugh, "Like buns of steel nice?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, I'm just telling you what I've heard."

Robin made her way around the too small kitchen area and grabbed a mug to pour some coffee. "I'd much rather be interviewing Batman."

"Every journalist in the city would love an interview with Batman. It's just not going to happen."

Robin raised an eyebrow, "What happened to all that optimism?"

"I'm optimistic, not a dreamer of the impossible." As Robin's jaw dropped, Hailey danced out of the room, saying, "By the way, your parents called. They would like to speak to you _sometime_ this year."

Robin didn't reply. It was hard finding time to talk to her parents, but not nearly as hard as it was to _want_ to talk to her parents. Just as she didn't understand them, they didn't understand her. Circus people. Sometimes it was hard to believe that her parents were tights wearing, elephant people. Okay, so they weren't elephant people. They were acrobats, but it all amounted to the same thing. No one at her college would take her seriously if she told them that her parents worked in the Circus. They would laugh at her and say that it was no wonder that she wanted to get away from it all.

And then there was the other side of the spectrum. Her parents had always expected her to take after them. They never presumed to think that she would want to be anything other than part of their act. But she had bigger dreams than those of the circus. She wanted to be a major journalist and she was well on her way to making it happen. It was really too bad that her brother got sucked into the business. But he was still only ten; he would have years to get out of it if he wanted to.

Their differences were one of the things that came between her and her parents. She always found the time to talk to Dick, though. He needed some normal influence in his life.

The phone rang. She hoped that someone else would get it. If there was one thing that she absolutely despised, it was having to answer the phone. No one was answering. Hailey must have gone out. Where were those other two roommates of hers? They should have answered the phone.

With no other choice, she entered the living room and picked up the phone. "Hello. Robin speaking."

"Robin. It's Mike. We have a problem."

"Oh?" She picked up the Gotham Times paper and took a look at the cover. On it was a picture of the new CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox. The article itself went on to tell how Fox was beginning to change Wayne Enterprises, employing more of a workforce and beginning a charity fund.

"Your meeting time has been changed to one."

"Oh." Robin dropped the magazine and glared at the phone. "You do realize that it takes me almost two hours to get to the other side of the city through the transit system."

"Yes."

"And then to get to the actual Wayne estate will take-"

"You won't be going to the Wayne estate. There's nothing left of it."

She had forgotten that little detail. Of course there was no more estate since Wayne apparently had a psychotic drunk moment and burned the entire place down. "Then where is the interview being conducted?"

"The Menia."

"The Menia?"

Mike let out an exasperated sigh, "It's a hotel. Huge, mostly for rich people."

"I know _what_ it is, I've just never been there."

"But do you know where it is?"

"Erm… let me grab a pencil," she said, opening the drawers of a coffee table and taking out a notepad and a pencil. "Okay, feel free to give me the directions any time."

"The address is 4569 Cheseney Circle. It's near the Gallery Mall."

"Like I have the money to shop at the Gallery," Robin said with an eye-roll. The place was full of nothing but designers like _Prada_ and _Dolce & Gabbana_.

"But you know where that's at, right?" Mike was beginning to sound more than a little frustrated.

"Yeah. So it's in that area?"

"Right down the street."

"Okay. Thanks for telling me," she said, sticking the address in her pocket. "And by the way, you are so lucky that I didn't have class today. What would you have done if I had?"

"Easy. I would have found someone else to do it for you. There are many reporters who would be willing to take your place."

"Nice to know that I'm replaceable. I'll get you the interview ASAP."

"Erm… go get 'em tiger?"

She rolled her eyes before hanging up, "You are so awkward."

--

The Menia was known for being the five-star hotel to top all five-star hotels. It was probably just nerves, but when she got to the building, suddenly she wasn't feeling so well. The place was just _huge_! It took up the entire block that it was on. She wondered why she had never been here before. Well, it was clear that she couldn't afford to stay there, but still.

The place had to have at least five doormen. They were all helping people in or out, offering smiles and greetings. None of them were young; it was clear that the place only wanted seasoned veterans working their doors. One of the men was giving her a strange look. Taking a deep breath, she walked inside. That only made her feel even worse.

The ceiling was so high she felt like it wasn't even there. It was done in a strange glass pattern that allowed light to pass through at certain areas, like pieces of artwork that they wanted highlighted and chairs and tables. Columns rose into the air. Her slightly worn sneakers made squeaky sounds on the marble floor. Suddenly, she realized that she was severely underdressed in her dress pants and sweater. She could have at least put some nice shoes and jewelry on. And she hadn't really had time to do anything to her hair. Instead, she tied it up in a messy ponytail and ran out the door. At least she had had enough time for a shower.

Hesitantly, she went up to the front desk. The blonde woman with a slightly bird-like nose was looking at her in disdain. _She_ was dressed in an expensive looking suit. Robin guessed Armani, but she didn't know her designers and it could have been anyone.

"Can I… help you," the snooty woman said. Although she asked if she could help, what Robin heard was, 'Can I assist you out the front door you piece of street scum?'

"Um, yes," she fumbled for her purse and dug around in it before grabbing her reporter badge and her card. "I'm here for an interview with Bruce Wayne."

The woman's look didn't soften any, "And?"

"Well, could you call him and tell him that I've arrived?"

Robin fidgeted under the woman's scrutiny. Finally she said, "We do not appreciate… your type in here." Robin's eyebrows rose. _Her type?_ "A standard rule of ours is that our guests maintain a sense of decorum."

"Really," Robin said, feigning surprise, "I guess I didn't get the rule book. Do you know where I can get one before I go to see a _paying_ guest? One that is helping with _your_ wage?" She hadn't really meant to sound threatening, especially when she was threatening the woman with Wayne's power, a man she didn't even know. But people like this ticked her off and if there was one thing that Robin wasn't, it was someone who stood down from a challenge.

The woman twitched for a few moments before picking up the phone, "I'll call right away." It sounded as though she didn't expect him to be in.

"There's no need for that, I'll take her up."

The woman glanced up from her dialing and behind Robin's shoulder, beginning to turn a slight shade of pink. At the sound of the voice, Robin whipped around. Before her stood an older man, actually he seemed more like a gentleman than anything, with white hair and a small smile on his face. He motioned to an elevator, and she was quick to follow him on.

"I'm Alfred," the man told her. "Mr. Wayne's butler."

Of course Mr. Wayne had a butler. And it just seemed to complete the image she had of the rich by him being an _English_ butler. It seemed almost like something out of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air". Except, this guy seemed to have a bit more manners than those of Geoffrey.

Robin shuffled her bag and purse from one arm to another and stuck out her hand, "Robin Grayson, _Gotham People_ reporter."

He looked at her, "A very prestigious magazine."

Robin snorted, making Alfred give her a strange look. She quickly tried to cover it up by saying, "Yes, it is." She didn't sound too convincing. "Anyway, is Mr. Wayne ready for my interview?"

"Actually, he's out at the moment. You seem to be a few hours early."

Robin felt her throat constrict slightly, "Wasn't the interview scheduled at one?"

"I believe that we scheduled it at three, if I'm correct."

Slowly, she could feel her face beginning to flush before groaning, "I'm so sorry! I can go and walk around for a couple hours before the interview is scheduled to start and-"

"That won't be necessary." He smiled at her as if trying to will away all of her embarrassment, "Mr. Wayne went out before he could eat his lunch. Have you happened to have eaten yet?"

And that was how Mr. Bruce Wayne found her: eating his lunch, drinking his tea, and talking to his butler. To say that he was surprised would be the least. Robin herself was quite embarrassed and quickly stood up and held out her hand.

"I'm Robin Grayson from the _Gotham People Magazine_, here for your interview."

He leaned against one wall and studied her, making her cheeks flame. He grinned and suddenly she felt her legs turning to goo. No wonder that women found him so sexy, despite his playboy qualities. He was completely melt-worthy.

"You're early."

Suddenly realizing that she was gaping at him, she shut her mouth. He smiled at her again… dare she say _flirtatiously?_… before walking back through the doorframe and into the larger part of the penthouse suite. "I'll be a few moments. Make yourself at home. Wait, you already have."

Robin gulped. Although Alfred, the absolutely wonderful butler, had told her that it was okay that she come up, she hadn't wondered what _he_ would think. If she wasn't mistaken, he actually sounded kind of angry about it.

"Excuse me, Miss Grayson," Alfred stood from his seat and followed Bruce. She was left wide-eyed and wondering what was going on.

A/N: So what did you think of this first chapter? Was Robin an all right as an OC? Anyway, remember to review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters, Hostess, or Business Professionals of America. I do, however, own my character, Robin Grayson, the Menia hotel, and The Gotham People Magazine. I meant to put this in the first chapter (and was only reminded of it when someone reviewed on it), but this is a darker look at how Robin (the sidekick _boy_) got his nickname. Remember to read, review, and enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

It was another half hour before Bruce Wayne appeared again. Alfred had put more tea on the table and Robin found herself on what had to be her fifth cup. She was feeling awkward and out of place, and the butler tried to fix that, but nothing really helped. When Bruce reappeared, his hair was wet and there was a towel around his t-shirt clad shoulders.

He smiled at her, "Are you ready?"

Instead of telling him that she had been ready since he got there, she smiled and said, "Yup."

Yup. Like he was going to be impressed that she said 'yup'. Although she had no intentions of trying to get with the billionaire man, she certainly didn't want to seem like an idiot. 'Yup.' Couldn't she have said something like 'I'm ready when you are,' or maybe something a little bit more cutting like 'I've been ready since I got here. It is you who appears not to be.' But nope, she said yup. Great.

Bruce didn't seem particularly patient with her inner turmoil. One of his eyebrows rose as he waited for her to make a move. Blushing, she dug around in her bag before pulling out a voice recorder and a notepad.

"So," she said while turning on the recorder, "How old are you?"

"Thirty."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Black."

She glanced up at him, then back down at her notepad, "Any special reason behind that color?"

He smirked and rested one elbow on the table and put his head in his hand, "Any special reason that you were here over an hour before the scheduled interview time?" He leaned back in his chair, "Were you hoping to get a little bit of snooping in?"

Her face heated up again. She had thought about snooping a couple of times. Alfred had left her home more than enough for her to maybe get a little background on what kind of person the billionaire was. But she was smarter than that. In the first half hour of talking to the gray-haired butler, she knew that if he felt she was breaching Wayne's privacy in any way, he'd throw her out.

"My boss told me that the interview was rescheduled for any earlier time."

"He was hoping that you'd do a little bit of snooping."

Feeling annoyed that the interview wasn't going as easily as she had hoped, she ignored him and continued down the page, "Height?"

"Six foot one."

"Favorite food?"

"I would say that it's Asian, but after my extensive traveling, I'm sort of sick of that particular… flavor. At the moment, I enjoy a nice steak."

"On the subject of your traveling," Robin began, "What caused you to go missing for nearly eight years, only to turn up now?"

Just because her boss said that they wanted a basic profile of the man, didn't mean that she couldn't delve a little deeper into his personality. She was a curious woman, damn it!

"I think that that is private information." The look on his face was hard and cold.

"It's private information that the women of the city would _love_ to know. In fact, I think everyone in the city would love to know where you've been and why it's been so long since you've been back." She leaned across the table, "My money, personally, is on you shacking up with various women around the world." She leaned back in her chair, proud that she was finally able to get a little bit of her own opinion in on this man.

He smirked, but didn't say anything. She was really beginning to get annoyed by this supposedly 'sexy' man.

"Anyway, what do you look for in a woman?" Just when he opened his mouth, she went on, "Long blonde hair, legs that never stop, not a brain to speak of, and big boobs, right?"

"Are we talking about casual dating or serious?"

"Have you ever seriously dated anyone," she asked in return. The fact that Bruce actually had a serious type of girl was sort of shocking.

He was silent for a second, "Right now, I'm only interested in casual dating. And yes, casual dating usually involves that sort of girl."

"Usually two at a time," Robin quipped.

He nodded in agreement and smiled, "Sometimes even three."

"Shocking," She said in mock surprise. The fact that he usually had more than one woman hanging off of his arms wasn't surprising at all. "So, you're giving hope, though, to the normal women out there who are clamoring for a date with you that maybe there is a more normal type of girl who you'd date?"

He lifted an eyebrow, "I'm telling them not to hold out for me. For all I know, casual dating is all that I'm interested in. It could last forever."

"But what is this mysterious type that, apparently, you would be interested in?"

"Smart." At the look on Robin's face, he grinned. "Yes, I do happen to find smart women interesting. You can talk to them for long periods of time."

"As opposed to the two or three minutes that you're used to."

"You give the girls too much credit. Usually they only last for two or three seconds."

"Then they do something like take a swim in hotel decorative water pieces."

"Yes, they do that sometimes."

"And sometimes you join them."

"Most of the time, actually."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Anyway. Smart. Do you happen to find anything else attractive in a woman?"

He shrugged and said, "I'll find attractive what any other man finds attractive: a beautiful woman. Sometimes, there are the added things that make her more."

"More what?"

"Just more," he said decisively.

Robin jotted a few more notes down. He was an extremely weird guy, this Bruce Wayne. He was giving her answers now, just not the way she expected him to. He was vague with everything, always had a reply to her sometimes snarky comments, and somehow managed to seem like a player all in one. Really, the man was nothing short of amazing. She snorted. Maybe not amazing, but he was interesting.

Taking a sip of her long forgotten tea, she proceeded, "So what made you decide to fire William Earle and instate Lucius Fox as the new CEO of Wayne Enterprises?"

So maybe she was going a little bit off topic again, but a curious mind would not be stopped. Plus, the look on his face was priceless. It was a strange mixture of amusement, confusion, and something… strange. Like anger. The anger part of it more of amounted to the vibes she got when he first walked into the apartment than anything else.

"William Earle was… incapable as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises."

"But," Robin said, "How did you fire him? I thought that the company went public."

Bruce shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable, but confident nonetheless, "It was a complicated process…"

"That involved…" Robin urged him to continue, fingers gripped around pencil, eyes staring penetratingly at him.

The silence was nearly overbearing. He seemed to be trying to decide whether he really wanted it advertised how he re-took over his father's company, or if he wanted to continue laying low. Finally, he said, "It was complicated."

Robin sat back in her chair, dissatisfied. He had probably had one of his various men devise a plan to get him the company. There was no way that a man who spent most of his time buying things that couldn't be bought would think out a plan to gain him the majority of shares in the company.

"Paper or plastic?"

"What," he asked.

She had meant to throw this at him to confuse him. It was one of those personality-delving questions that couldn't be taken at face value. "Paper. Or. Plastic?"

Apparently, Bruce Wayne was undeterred by her question after she asked it again. "This is a trick question, isn't it? At least, unless I answer it completely and totally to your liking."

Robin grinned and motioned for him to go on.

"If I choose paper, it means that I also support the cutting down of trees. If I choose plastic, it means that there are thousands of landfills filled with nothing but plastic bags and I'm in support of that. I choose… recycling. Either one as long as it's recycled."

"Interesting…"

"But, truth be told," he said with a smirk, "I don't even do any of the shopping. Paper or plastic isn't really relevant to me."

This time it was Robin's turn to smirk, "Now who's taking this at face value? By paper or plastic, I could always be referring to manual things, such as paper and pencils, books and magazines. And plastic is what computers are centrally made out of correct? Now they are even coming out with ones that are nearly completely made out of plastic… mostly thanks to the experiments of Lucius Fox."

Bruce shrugged, as if her reasoning had nothing to do with him.

"What I'm getting at, is that there is paper and plastic all around you, but which do you choose? Anyway, new question," she could practically sense his annoyance with her. "Batman."

For a second something flickered in his eyes, but that quickly disappeared. He took a drink of his tea and lifted his eyebrows, willing her to go on.

"Do you feel that this Batman is doing justice to the world by taking the law into his own hands, or are you with the authorities in saying that maybe justice needs to be brought to _him_?"

This brought another cold look to his eye and he said, "If justice is being done throughout the city, does it matter who's doing it?"

Robin was a supporter of Batman herself. She was sick of not being able to walk into a grocery store and walk out without nearly getting robbed, seeing someone get robbed, or worse. The police clearly weren't doing enough about the problem, and if the guy who dressed like a _bat_ wanted to take care of the problem, she was all for it. And it really didn't help that he was as _built_ as he was. She had seen pictures; she knew what the police were up against. And not for the first time she thought that she might want to be up against that, too. Just not in the same way.

"That's not the way that the world works, though. There are rules."

He looked at her pointedly, "And are the rules always right?"

Of course he didn't understand the meaning of rules. He could buy himself out of the rules. But could anyone else? No. Few people had that sort of money.

"Listen. I'm all for a guy who wants to make it safe for people to be able to walk down the street without being mugged. It's nice to be able to go someplace and come out knowing that there's a chance that, even if I am mugged, someone might be there to save me. But that's not what the law thinks. They think that the rules are there for a reason and they need to be followed."

"The Narrows don't even get any police coverage."

"What the hell do _you_ know about the Narrows?"

Some rich guy wanted to come and tell her how to run the part of the city that she lived in? Hell no. He didn't know shit about the way that people lived there. What they needed were policemen. Even she could admit while Batman was a nice thought, he didn't quite cover everything. Plus, there was a sort of system down there that you followed. It didn't always work, but as long as you knew what you were doing, you wouldn't get killed.

Bruce Wayne didn't seem to like being sworn at. "What do _you_ know about the Narrows? Do you even live there?"

"Yeah, I live there," she replied angrily. "Not everyone can afford a freaking apartment in the richer part of town, or, hell, even the East End."

She knew that she didn't dress like the type of person who came from the Narrows. That came from saving every bit of clothing that got thrown her way over the years. Her parents didn't live in Gotham City, they were always on the road, so they didn't know what sort of place their daughter was living in. If they did, they probably would insist on taking her on the road with them, and they'd use the 'World's Strongest Man' to help with their insisting. All of her jeans and clothes were things that she collected from high school, when she still got an allowance. The one suit that she owned was when she was in this club called Business Professionals of America, which sort of required nice clothing.

Also, she didn't talk like someone from the Narrows. But, again, she didn't grow up there. And she spent as little time there as possible, between school and work. Despite what people said, Gotham University was no joke. They were serious and expected you to be serious, too. Her mouth dried when she thought about going to Graduates school. Not only would it suck her dry, but also she probably wouldn't be able to work very much during the time.

Still angry, she said, "Listen I have to go. I have everything that I need for the article, thanks, it wasn't particularly nice meeting you, but I'm sure that I'll live. Thanks for the food Alfred."

"No problem, Miss." He seemed unable to hide a smile. "I hope that you come again."

She smiled, too, unable to stay mad when the British man was so nice, "Doubtful, but thanks for the thought."

She grabbed her recorder, stuffed her notebook into her bag and left. She was proud to say that she didn't even glance behind to see what the expression was on Mr. Wayne's handsome face.

--

Marissa, Robin's second roommate, seemed none-to-pleased about how the interview went. Despite his womanizing ways, she was another that felt that Bruce was just a man who needed a little bit of tweaking, and eventually he would become… gallant. Robin was doubtful on the whole scenario that the girl was cooking up, especially after meeting him.

"I cannot believe that you yelled at him," she said angrily, throwing a spoon at her. Luckily it missed her by a good three feet. "You should have tried to become friends with him! Then, when the moment was right, introduced us. We would have fallen madly in love and had adorable little babies."

Hailey laughed, "Before or after marriage?"

The beautiful girl glared at both of her roommates, "After, duh."

"So, you're really after his money," Robin said, unable to hide her grin.

"No, I'm after his good looks." She suddenly turned hopeful. "Please tell me that he's just as good looking in real life as the media makes him out to be."

As much as it pained her to say it, she had to. "Better."

Marissa squealed, but started glaring again, "I hope that you know that it's your turn to get groceries."

"And this isn't just punishment for ruining your 'chances' with Bruce Wayne?"

"Only partly."

Robin grinned as she donned her tan leather trench coat. It was the nicest coat that she had ever seen and a boyfriend (now long gone) knew it. He had gotten it for her on her birthday, and even after they broke up, she kept it. It was far too good to throw away because of a rotten relationship.

And, well, she wasn't exactly angry about getting out of the apartment. She was drawing a blank on how to write the interview out. Every time she thought she had an idea, it just… didn't work. Maybe this would give her time to clear her head and just think.

She slowed as she neared the supermarket. Her eyes swerved to the dark figures huddled in an alleyway. They made no move to lower their voices, and she made no move to ignore what they were saying.

"—and then, boom, we'll blow it up."

"We can't just blow it up. That bat guy will arrive."

"How else are we going to get in? We need that--"

One guy seemed to nudge him and angrily said, "No mentioning it out loud. The Crane will not be happy."

The Crane? What the hell was that? It sounded like a giant bird more than anything else…

Her reporter instincts were telling her to stay and listen to the conversation: it could be a lead. Her survive-the-Narrows-and-not-get-killed instincts were telling her to keep on walking. As much as it pained her, she kept on walking.

"If we take hostages--"

"No! No hostages!"

The voices grew more and more distanced. Inside her head she kept one word repeating over and over: Crane. She went through the process of buying food without thought. Milk, bread, cheese, crackers, some Hostess snacks, turkey, and bananas. She was pretty sure that they still had eggs and soup at home, along with a cupboard full of Ramen noodles.

There was no one in the check out line, which made her insanely happy. Most of the time there were at least five people waiting, and it took hours to get through them. Workers in the Narrows had no incentive to work hard, so they worked however they wanted (which was usually quite slowly).

Even with no one there in front of her, it still took at least fifteen minutes to get completely through the line.

"And your total comes to thirty five dollars and sixty cents," the nose ringed worker told her. As she received her change, she couldn't help but stare at the amazingly vibrant green streaks through her hair.

"Thanks."

"Yeah… whatever."

Robin stepped out into the night with a smile on her face. Despite the fact that she hated slow moving lines, she loved the minimum wage-y-ness of the worker. It kind of reminded her of her days working at a McDonalds in Chicago, when she had gone to Northwestern (she had transferred to Gotham University because the journalist program there was even more prestigious than the one presented at Medill School of Journalism… for those who dared transfer to the city).

Her grin was none-to-subtly dropped when she felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head. She gulped and closed her eyes.

"Groceries," the voice behind her said. She loosened the hold she had on her bag and he grabbed them from her. "Purse." Again, she allowed it to slide down her arm and he yanked it from her hand. She wondered if she was going to die. It was kind of ironic; her parents always said that she would never make it through college. It seemed they were right. Her she was, just a year from graduating, and she was going to die.

"Coat."

Her throat constricted and she wanted to tell the guy no. This was the only thing in the world she truly adored and he was going to steal it? Great, the perfect end to the _best_ day of her life.

"Keep the coat on," a gruff voice said from somewhere in front of her. She felt hands suddenly on her shoulders, and the gun barrel left her head. The man who she assumed was the one threatening her screamed. The sound of her things falling to the ground made her wince.

Slowly she opened her eyes and turned around. The guy who was threatening her was on the ground, apparently unconscious, and before her stood Batman.

"Holy shit," flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. The darkly dressed man stared at her. "Sorry," she mumbled, turning a vibrant shade of red. She hoped that he couldn't tell through the dark.

"Are you all right?"

His voice was so much gruffer than she had ever imagined, and she found herself merely staring wide-eyed at him, unable to say a word. He was even more built than pictures gave him credit for.

"I-I-I'm fin-n-ne?"

That seemed to be all that it took. He left before she even could tell that he was going. She heard the sound of him jumping onto an emergency escape, climbing quickly up a ladder, and then… nothing. Gulping, she picked up her smashed groceries and her purse. She ran all the way home, and didn't say anything to her roommates when she got there. Instead, unable to sleep, she sat at her computer and typed like there was no tomorrow.

A/N: Remember to review! I hope that you enjoyed this long chapter. Not all of the chapters are going to be this long… just the conversation between Robin and the gorgeous Mr. Bruce Wayne dragged on for longer than I expected. I did a lot of research for this chapter (although I bet it doesn't seem like it). I tried to get things as correct as possible. His height was the hardest one to get. I got any where from six foot to six foot two. I rounded.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters. I do, however, own my character, Robin Grayson, the Menia hotel, and The Gotham People Magazine. Remember to read, review, and enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated and encouraged. P.S. This story was meant to come out on that Friday that the new movie premiered, but then the chapter just wouldn't end. So then I wanted it to come out when I went to see the movie (Monday), but that didn't work out, either. I don't know what it is about these chapters, but they are just so long! For me, anyway. Plus, forget how many times Robin may have had to re-write her article, you don't even want to know how many_ I_ had to. And it's still not quite malicious, or even very mean, which is very disappointing!

Chapter Three

"Grayson, what the hell is this," Mike Smith yelled.

Robin made a quick note to hold the phone further away from her ear. "It's the interview you asked for," she told him, trying to keep from rolling her eyes.

He huffed angrily on the other end, "This isn't an interview, it's an attack on one of the richest men in the world!"

"Some people deserve to be attacked." She opened her fridge and grabbed a jug of orange juice. She sniffed it, shrugged, and poured some into a glass. "With words, not physically, that is. And the interview was not that bad! I put in all of his personal stats, and then just added a few things I found interesting in it."

"It's not the interview I asked for. You are either going to redo it or I'm giving someone else the interview."

She thought of her choices. If she didn't redo the article, the entire interview would have been for nothing. That meant that she had spent the better part of two hours talking to Bruce Wayne for no reason. On the other side, she could allow her personal feelings about the man out, even if they didn't get published.

At the moment, fame meant more. "Fine, I'll redo it."

"You bet your ass you will!" Mike calmed down a little bit, "I just sent you a few more questions. You're going to have another interview with Bruce Wayne, and you're going to do it my way. You didn't ask nearly enough questions, and those you did were things that most people already know."

Robin winced. She didn't want to talk to that man again! Once was enough for a lifetime, maybe even two.

"Your interview is for later today. Three o'clock. Be there on time and… don't embarrass the magazine." There was a click as he hung up, then the dial tone.

In a sort of haze, she went to her laptop, sat down, and pulled up her article.

**Bruce Wayne: Billionaire Bachelor Revealed**

by Robin Grayson

As a child, he was the kid that every woman wanted as her son. They all wanted to protect him. As a teenager, he was considered smart, cunning, and brooding. His face stayed out of the papers and out of gossip. Until several years ago, when he disappeared.

Now he's back and there's one question on everyone's mind: what does a billionaire bachelor whose been missing for several years act like?

Everyone heard about the famous fire at the now non-existent Wayne Manor. He was drunk, raving, and overall not the pleasant man that was made out in the media. He threw a tantrum and when he didn't get what he wanted, he destroyed his home.

He's got arrogance down to an art form. It's clear that he's had more than enough experience at evading the questions of the press in order to effectively ignore many important questions during the interview.

He's still the mystery that he was before, however brilliant. He gives off the aura of knowing more than anyone should. And, surprising, he keeps to himself.

Or at least, mostly. Out of all the faults that have been capitalized on Wayne, possibly the biggest is his womanizing. In his own words, he likes having a woman around with nothing in her head. He's not looking for serious, he's looking for fun.

Arrogant to a fault is another way some would describe Bruce upon meeting him. A few women gave the answers, "He's dark, mysterious, and commanding. The perfect man."

A few of the people who have already met him say, "Although he proves to be a genius when put to a test, that's not the impression he gives. When met, he acts as though he's a flirtatious idiot... although maybe that's judging his character too harshly. He's imposing to be sure, although he plays his part quietly. He flies under the radar of business importance and into the light of publicity."

So what exactly is Bruce hiding? Apparently, more than we could possibly guess. Whether that's a good or a bad thing has yet to be answered.

And in the attachment from Mike:

This isn't a personality delving article. Go back to Wayne and ask him these questions:

How does it feel to be a Sexiest Man?

Your parents were shot. How does that affect the public's opinion and view of you?

It's said that you have a personal relationship with a certain Miss Rachel Dawes. Care to explain?

What do you do in your free time?

The list went on and on. Robin groaned at the simplicity of all the questions. Some of them had potential... and that potential was immediately cut off. Today at six... another meeting with Bruce Wayne. It was not on the top of her list of things that she enjoyed doing. Nor was it on the bottom, or anywhere in the middle.

"Robin, hey, your mom's on the phone!"

"Bring it in here," she yelled back. She was not in the mood for doing anything at the moment.

Marissa walked into the room, glaring at her, "You lazy ass, come get the phone next time."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her roommate. "Hey, mom."

"Robin."

The reception on the other line wasn't exactly cold… it just wasn't warm. Of all the people who took her not wanting to be a circus freak hard, her mother took it the hardest. It was almost like the woman who gave birth to her no longer knew who she was. They used to be best friends (although it didn't really help that there weren't many kids in the circus—except reptile boy. Enough said).

"Something you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, actually, yes." Her mom paused, "We're going to be traveling down south over Christmas week. Florida, Louisiana, Texas. Sort of hit 'em and run, you know?" She paused again. Robin imagined she was trying to find the words to talk to her daughter. "We were wondering if you could get time off work and come down. It'd be sort of like old times."

Robin smiled into the phone. "I'll see, mom."

Old times weren't exactly bad, but that was before she knew that there were bigger, better things available to her. While her parents soared above on the trapeze, the bearded lady, Barbara Sandfen, taught her all the skills she would need to know in the real world. And then there was Joseph Dine, who taught her math… by pick pocketing people and making her count all the money. Then there was Fiske Jean, who was the first one to actually see that maybe she was suffocating with the circus. He convinced her parents to let her live with her aunt in Chicago.

Seeing all of them wouldn't be bad. She thought about them often and missed them. But a part of her would always know that they represented what she left behind and how glad she was to be rid of it.

"It'd be really great if you could. Your dad really misses you. Says it's not the same without you watching in the crowd." The fact that sometimes she was up with them was conveniently left out. She hadn't really been a good trapeze artist anyway. Robin fell nearly every single show she did. "Oh, Dick wants to talk to you."

There was a split second before she heard the phone handed off. "Sis?"

"Hey, Dick, how's it going? Having fun?"

There was a pause on the other line. "Yeah, it's sweet here! Have you ever been to France?"

They were in France? And her mom couldn't invite her to _that_.

"No," she replied, printing off her interview questions. "We mostly did shows here in America and Canada when I was around. Sometimes we went to Mexico."

"Well, you wouldn't believe it here. The bread is amazing! And there's this girl who lives in one of the houses near the grounds that brings us fresh flowers every day after the show."

"Really," she teased. "Is she cute?"

He deadpanned, "She has a face like a horse and a laugh like a jackal."

"Dick!"

"Duh, she's cute!"

"Are you even old enough to like girls?"

"I'm eleven."

She snorted, "Girls have cooties and don't you forget it."

"Whatever, weirdo." There was another pause and she heard him saying something to her mom. "Hey, do you think that I could come stay with you in the city for a little bit?"

She paused. That was something she'd have to check with her roommates on, "I'll see what I can do. But, really, I don't know why you wouldn't be able to."

"Sweet! I've got to go, though. This card is almost out of minutes."

"See you, little man."

"Bye."

Robin hung up the phone and sighed. Christmas with the family, huh? She'd rather die.

--

Again Robin found herself in the horribly fancy lobby of The Menia. This time, though, a different girl was working the front desk.

"Hi! Can I help you," the girl asked in a perky voice.

"I'm Robin Grayson, here for an interview with Mr. Wayne."

"Alrighty, I'll call right up."

She smiled and grabbed the phone. She hadn't even glanced at her clothes.

Robin had dressed carefully this time before entering the hotel. She didn't like the dirty look she had gotten and would avoid it at all costs. Now she was dressed in her business suit, although her jacket was unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up—the price for a jacket that was slightly too big for her.

"He's ready when you are, Miss Grayson."

"Thanks."

She began walking away, wincing at every step that echoed off the walls.

"Hey," the girl at the desk called. Robin took a deep breath and turned around; she hoped that this wasn't where she got chewed out. Instead, the girl asked, "You don't happen to be related to the Gotham World Circus Grayson's, do you?"

"Yeah… yeah I am."

"Oh," the girl squealed, "I went and saw the show a couple years ago. It was amazing! You must be so proud?"

Robin lifted one eyebrow, "Proud?"

"Your parents are so athletic! So you're a reporter?"

"Yeah."

"Do you ever get to, I don't know, report on your parent's show?"

Robin shook her head before turning around, "The last time I saw my parents was the last time they were in Gotham… a couple of years ago."

"Oh," she heard the girl sigh, embarrassed.

--

"So, Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, how does it feel being on top Gotham's Sexiest Man list? Congrats. Must feel good knowing women see you as a slab of meat with a tight ass."

"So you've been looking at my ass?"

"I've been told it's a view not worth missing."

"And?"

"They were wrong."

That wasn't the best way to start off her second interview with Bruce Wayne, but she was angry that she even had to do it again. Robin wanted to start off with making all of the questions sent sarcastic. What she had not expected was for Mr. Wayne to be sarcastic right back.

It had been three hours. Three long, horrible hours of talking to Bruce Wayne. And he seemed to be enjoying it.

Robin shook her head in disgust as she took a bite of a biscuit. Alfred had brought more than enough food to last her a lifetime. The butler seemed to be anticipating a long interview.

"Okay, now please answer this fully," she was annoyed with how he seemed to get so much joy out of tormenting her. He just sat there with that stupid playboy smile on his face. She could tell that it wasn't his real smile either; it didn't quite meet his eyes. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Buy things."

"And how… fulfilling that must be," she replied sarcastically. "Doesn't that get old quickly?"

He just quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Fine. Whatever. I don't even care. This article isn't exactly supposed to be promoting _me_ any." _Actually_, that wasn't exactly true when she thought about it.

"Well, after I buy the things, I use them."

"What do you buy, Bruce Wayne?" She tapped her pencil against her head annoyed.

"I've got a Lamborghini, several motorcycles, three Porches', and a Ferrari."

"Is that all? And what do you do, spend all of your time driving?"

"Sometimes I throw fundraisers… parties… and the like."

He looked so breezy about it. He spent all this money that could be helping the poor. Just the other day he had yelled at her for not knowing what it was like in the Narrows, now he told her all of the nice expensive things he bought. Where was the justice in that?

And fundraisers. What does he need fundraisers for? She was curious, so she asked.

"To help Gotham, of course."

Ah, yes. To help Gotham. Of course. Although Robin had heard that his Christmas fundraiser last year that had raised over a million dollars and it had been split up and donated to the orphanages of the city. Rumor had it that every child had at least one present waiting under the tree that year. At the orphanages, that is.

"Are you having another Christmas fundraiser this year?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, "Yes. And probably two more before that."

For the first time, she saw something under that cool, calm exterior. Maybe he was more sensitive and understanding than she gave him credit for.

"One is in a few days, actually."

He seemed to leave something hanging out of the statement. Robin wasn't quite sure what it was. There was the (probable) _and you're not invited_ or the (improbable and strange) _want to be my date_?

"What's the charity for? I'm sure that it could use some free advertisement."

If he didn't accept her small act of kindness, he was an ass. A big, freaking ass.

"Children's Cancer Ward at the Gotham Children's Hospital."

She smiled, "That shouldn't be too hard to write about."

"But I don't need free advertisement," he said, smirking at her.

It was like he knew that she wanted to be nice, but was throwing it back in her face. He was an ass. A huge, arrogant ass.

"You know what," she seethed. "Forget that I said anything. I didn't just offer you my help or anything of the sort. Forget it."

"Shouldn't be too hard."

Robin narrowed her eyes. Most people wouldn't be able to see it, but she definitely could. He was trying to cover up the fact that he was nice behind this cold, almost cruel yet innocent exterior. There was something in his eyes that just… it was _kind_, for lack of a better word. It was _understanding_. It was _intelligent_. In other words, it was everything that Bruce Wayne seemed to not want her to believe he was.

She kind of liked that look.

But she knew better than to bring it up. If she started questioning him about what he hid behind his façade, he would kick her out in five seconds flat. He had made that clear the second he, well, Alfred, let her in the door.

"You know what," she ask. "You are a jerk. A huge freaking jerk."

"But I have money, so that doesn't really matter, does it?"

He was amused by her, she could tell and understand why. There couldn't be too many people unimpressed with his attitude or his vast riches.

Robin had to admit that she was surprised he didn't take her… insubordination angrily. She would have expected that it would be something he wasn't used to and hate her for it. His amusement was something that she didn't foresee at all. And she found that she hated the look that amusement seemed to put in his eye. It made her uncomfortable, almost like he could see through her.

"Do you have any more questions?"

She could pretty much feel his smirk. Finally she asked, "Do you believe that there is hope that Gotham will eventually be an uncorrupted city?"

"I think that depends on the hearts of the people."

Robin smiled at him. Not an indifferent smile, like the one she had used to promote her sarcasm, nor her polite smile, which she gave to Alfred whenever he offered her something. It was a true, genuine smile. And it was the first time she saw him falter.

"And what do you think the hearts of the people of Gotham are saying?"

She leaned forward, awaiting his answer.

Bruce's eyes grew cloudy and in a gruff voice, he replied, "I think they're saying that they need help."

Now he looked at her, almost as if wondering what she thought about his answer. Clearly he was not expecting her agreement. She only wondered why he seemed to think that her opinion mattered.

"I think that they've been saying they need help," she told him. "I think that they've been saying it for a long time."

And then he smiled at her. Really, truly smiled. And she felt her insides fall out.

--

Robin couldn't keep the smile off of her face, "Really, you like it?"

She had been expecting a lot of things to come out of Mike's mouth when he called her later that night over her hastily put together article. The fact that he liked it was not one of them.

"The entire senior staff likes it. A few revisions will be made and it will definitely be put in the magazine."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you have another assignment, if you want it."

"Of course!"

Did this man think that she would actually turn down the chance to make any money? Sure, interviewing Bruce Wayne was hard, but she had gotten through it (she was going to ignore that one smile. It was a fluke and that was all there was to it.)

His next words, however, would take the smile right off of her face, "Tomorrow night you'll be attending Bruce Wayne's Thanksgiving Gala. It's dress up, so wear something appropriate. Preferably a dress."

She blinked, "Why am I doing another Bruce Wayne event?"

"It was a request."

Robin groaned, "Fine. Whatever. I'll do it."

"You'll be accompanied by Luke Garinson," Mike told her.

The head photographer? He did all of the spreads in the magazine, plus a ton more. Nearly all of the girls at the _Gotham People Magazine_ had at least a slight crush on him. Her included.

"No problem. I'll be there."

A/N: This didn't end quite the way that I wanted it to, but I don't think that it's such a bad thing at the moment. So, what did you think? Was it up to snuff with my previous chapters? Remember to review! Oh, by the way, this story is post-Begins, but pre-Dark Knight.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters, Giselle, or National Geographic, or The New York Times. I do, however, own Robin Grayson, Mike Smith, The Menia, and The Gotham People Magazine (although not Gotham). Remember to read, review, and enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Chapter Four

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her dress. She had borrowed it from Hailey, who was much more… well endowed than she was. Marissa had to do some alterations to make sure the dress fit.

Luke Garinson grinned at her, "Uncomfortable?"

"Extremely," she replied.

"Don't be. You look great."

Now that was an exaggeration if she had ever heard one. She looked _presentable_. Her hair was neatly in place with a bun, her dress was wrinkle free, and she had someone _else_ do her make up. Now Luke, he looked great. His tuxedo (which had designer written all over it), merely made his blonde hair stand out more, along with his eyes. Women all around were sending him glances, trailing their eyes from his broad shoulders, to his narrow hips.

"Thanks."

He had camera in hand and he snapped a couple of pictures, "Do you want your picture taken? You know, something to remember this occasion by?"  
The smile on his face had turned slightly more sarcastic, which clued her into the fact that he had heard about her (rivalry, enemyship, what was it?) with Bruce Wayne.

"Your face says exactly how your feeling," he told her, quickly snapping a picture of her.

Robin glared at him, trying to get the light circles out of her eyes. "Don't do that!"

Inside, she felt like grinning. Luke had just taken a picture of her and now they were standing around talking. She felt like she was in heaven.

In the past year that she had been working at _The Gotham People Magazine_, he was one of the few people who she never had an actual conversation with, besides the usual greeting by the water dispenser. And he was really one of the only ones she actually wanted to get to know.

His work was beyond the shallow pictures he shot for the _Gotham People_. His repertoire included cover shots for _National Geographic_, promotional work for some of the biggest movies, and fieldwork for the government over in Iraq. Why he was working for the _Gotham People_, no one could understand. It seemed so below him.

People were spread out along the floor, talking in small groups and intermingling.

"This place is kind of scary," Robin commented.

Luke raised a gold eyebrow, "And you didn't realize this before?"

"Guess I didn't look around."

"Too focused on me, eh?"

He laughed and she blushed. She couldn't very well deny it. She was a horrible liar.

"Anyway, Mike said to ask people what they're wearing and who they all are."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and meet some movie stars or models," he replied in mock excitement. A waiter passed by with a tray full of h'orderves. Luke grabbed two and handed one to Robin. "I wouldn't eat too much. The food of the rich can be hazardous on we little people."

Robin had to admit that the small snack didn't exactly look safe. It didn't look like anything she'd eat in this lifetime, truth be told. "You can have mine, if you want it. And, hey, I happen to be extremely excited over the possibility of meeting a movie star or model." She leaned conspiratally closer, "I hear that Giselle is coming."

"Really?" So _now_ he got excited.

"Eh," Robin shrugged. "I don't actually know. If she is, she'll probably end up being Wayne's date."

"Good point."

"Hey, is that Lucius Fox," she asked, pointing subtly over to a small crowd of people.

The head of the company appeared to be talking to Alfred at length. Robin noted that the tray he was carrying was filled with champagne. Not a substance she particularly liked, but it was a drink. The only one she had seen so far.

"Come on," she motioned for him to follow her across the floor. A few people gave the determined reporter odd looks, but none stopped her. Although that could have just as easily been because no one knew her. "Mr. Fox?"

He looked away from Alfred and at her, "Yes?"

"I'm Robin Grayson, a reporter for _The Gotham People Magazine_. I was wondering if you would mind giving me an interview."

Luke merely nodded at the man, "Lucius."

"Luke."

"I photographed him for a few magazines last month," he whispered in her ear. It sent shivers down her spine and she found herself unable to reply.

While the man seemed to decide whether the tabloid-esque magazine was worth his time, she greeted Alfred, "How are you this evening?"

"I am fine, Miss Grayson. So glad that you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss it," she told him. "It's money and a good story. The only fault with it, really, is the fact that Mr. Wayne is the one throwing the gala."

Lucius grinned and shook his head, "You've met Mr. Wayne, then, I presume."

"I really would have rather not, though. But I got a request, so, here I am."

Now Luke was shaking his head, although not in the way that said he was completely amused. He seemed _partially_ amused, and mostly shocked.

"Yes, when I called the magazine, they seemed quite surprised that I requested you."

"_You_ requested me?"

She had assumed that it was one of the head honchos, not Wayne's butler.

"I thought you did a fine job with interviewing Master Wayne. Really brought out some character." If she wasn't mistaken, she swore that Alfred was chuckling under his breath. "Besides, the last reporter was… trouble. Miss Ally Summers, I believe?"

Robin nodded. She could understand how Ally could be considered trouble. The woman stopped at nothing to get a story; she would do anything. More than likely, she had done something scandalous. However, despite her less-than-elegant demeanor, Robin did admire the woman for her drive alone. She worked hard.

Even Luke had a grin on his face at the thought of Ally at one of these parties. He told Alfred, "I can see why you'd rather have Robin at one of these parties. She's a lot less… forceful."

"And, if need be, she'll put Master Wayne in his place." Now Robin was sure of it; she was being laughed at.

However, before she could say anything witty or even sensible, Lucius broke in, "I'd be more than happy to give you an interview, Miss Grayson."

She grinned at him, "Thank you, Mr. Fox. You can call me Robin, you know. I'm only twenty-one. Not an old bitty."

"Then call me Lucius. However, I do think that I might be an old bitty."

Robin grinned and pulled her small notepad out of her purse while Luke snapped a few photographs. He had told her before hand one of the reasons he made so much money was because he was completely uncommitted to one periodical. He could sell one photo to a low-income newspaper, and a different one from the same situation to a large one, such as the New York Times.

"Mr.—Lucius, how do you feel about the direction that your company is headed? Do you feel that Mr. Wayne made the right choice by putting you as the head of the company?"

"I'm confident in my abilities to lead Wayne Enterprises as its CEO. I am pleased to say, though, that this responsibility will not only rest on my shoulders. Bruce has offered to learn how to run the company from top to bottom and have a substantial role in affairs. For a while now, he has been learning how to run the company from me and other members of the Board. He attends meetings and has responsibilities that I hope will help him to eventually re-take over the company."

"I hear he sleeps during some of the meetings," Robin muttered. Lucius sent her a knowing smile and she went on, "And how do you feel about the charities he chooses to support? Do you feel that he gives enough money to them, considering he's a billionaire."

She had looked at a few figures and had decided herself that he didn't donate nearly as much money as she would have liked him to. Or respected him for. He had an income of over three hundred million dollars a year; he could probably spare more than he did.

"He's a lot more charitable than I think people give him credit for. Fundraisers he throws are usually for the more lesser-known foundations. I have reason to believe he donates a lot more money than people know."

That would explain the suddenly large, anonymous amount of money that the school systems in the more ghetto areas of Gotham got. That is, if he were the anonymous donor, something no one would ever know.

"Now onto the more… _Gotham People_ questions," she said. "How do you feel about the latest fall fashions?"

Lucius threw his head back and laughed, then told her frankly, "I think that I've had this tuxedo for six years and no one's noticed. It's kind of hard to tell with the men."

She grinned, too. "And what do you think of this party?"

"It would be better if the host would show up soon," he told her. "But overall it is done with true Wayne flare. I hear that Giselle will be showing up later."

Now Robin outright laughed, "Thank you, Lucius, for this interview. It was a pleasure meeting you."

They shook hands and she turned to walk away, looking for another member of high society to interview.

Luke looked at her, impressed, "I think you charmed him."

Robin snorted, "Let's just say that it went much better than my Wayne interviews."

"Yeah?"

"We couldn't go ten minutes without finding something to argue over," she told him.

He spared her a glance before looking towards the doors, "I think that our host has arrived."

Robin looked up. There, on the top of the stairs, was Bruce Wayne. Two girls were on his arms. Neither of them were Giselle. However arrogant that would have made Wayne look, Robin was somewhat disappointed. Imagine telling all of her friends that she had seen Giselle at a party. Maybe she would have even gotten a chance to talk to her or interview her.

Wayne's entrance was not quiet. Behind him were at least fifty small children, all dressed in slightly ratty uniforms. Every voice in the room went silent as they stared up at him.

He ushered the two girls on his arms into the crowd, then focused his attention on everyone.

"A year ago, these children didn't have textbooks. A year ago, they couldn't eat the food from the cafeteria, play outside because of the dangerous neighborhood, and teachers couldn't be paid. This year I hope to put an end to this."

Wayne's eyes swept the crowd. Much like before with Luke, a shiver went down her spine. This one was worse.

Robin had never seen him in action; doing the things he was slowly becoming famous for doing. Now she did and all she could think about was how much power and confidence he seemed to exuberate. He was being the man that women wanted him to be right here, right in front of her eyes.

"With a half a million dollars, they can have completely brand new, up-to-date books, something the school hasn't seen in over ten years. Another half a million can put ten more teachers on the payroll. With another half million, not only can they have security measures be put up, but guards can be paid for to keep these children safe."

He got down onto one knee and bid one of the children to come over. She was a sweet looking little girl, shaking slightly as she took a microphone and stared into the faces of the rich and powerful of Gotham.

"I," she started, her voice seeming so small and carrying through the room, "saw one of my teachers get shot. Right in the head, right in front of me. He took my friend and then he left. I haven't seen her in two years."

She went back to the line and another little girl put a hand around her shoulders, comforting her.

A boy stepped forward and told the crowd, "Two of my friends were killed coming into the school by another kid."

This went on, the children telling about the horrors that went on at their school. And each time one told something, Robin winced and thanked the lord that she went to school in Chicago, not Gotham.

Every child told a story, each unique and different than the last. Some of the women in the room were crying hard by the end of it. Robin had small tears glistening in the corner of her eyes.

She heard a few women and men saying, "I'll donate at least half of what he's saying myself."

All were opening their checkbooks and purses. She couldn't help but think that this was all because of Bruce Wayne. None of these people even cared about the children before he put it as a serious thing in front of them. Everyone knew what was going on in the city, yet he was the only one brave enough to make it real.

Her respect for him grew.

"Thank you for listening to their stories," he said into the microphone, staring down the crowd. "And I hope that you will be willing to donate money not only to this school, but to the other thirty less-than-well-off that dot the city."

He smiled into the crowd. Everyone applauded. Many people went up to talk to the children afterwards, especially the crying women.

"Come on," Robin said, tugging on Luke's sleeve. "Lets go talk to some of the children."

He smiled, "Way ahead of you."

She grinned as he showed her some of the pictures he had taken, from the crowds listening in rapture, to the children on the stage. The one that made her smile in particular was when one little girl was crying and Wayne enveloped the girl in a hug. For the first time, not only did she see this sweeter side to the man, but she saw the fact that maybe, eventually, with a lot of work, he could become a family man.

While walking over, his eyes met hers. She knew they did. In fact, he had completely stopped and stared at her. A flush ran up the back of her neck. It was kind of hard to remember that it was _Alfred_ who made the request, not Wayne.

One of the girls on his arms sneered at her, throwing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. The other, another blonde said in a loud voice, "Dress is so three years ago."

She heard some other things mentioned, from her dress, to her makeup, to her hair, to her purse. Luke, apparently, heard them too because he put a protective arm around her waist and lead her away, whispering in her ear to ignore them.

Talking to the children in person was difficult. They all had a story to tell, one much longer and more difficult than the ones they told on stage. A few told her about their bad home lives, how their parents couldn't get jobs and how some nights they went hungry.

When it was time for them to be taken home, Robin had a hard time saying goodbye. It was one of those things about being a reporter; sometimes you got attached.

"Bye," she waved to them and smiled as they all waved back. She turned to Luke, "I need to take a break."

She motioned with her head towards the balcony. He smiled and motioned toward the crowd. She rolled her eyes. One thing she was learning about the photographer was that he didn't take breaks. When he saw the opportunity for a good picture, he completely went for it. As it was, Robin didn't particularly recognize anyone in the crowd and was tired, plus she had class in the morning.

Fresh air did her good. The air was cooling against her back and she leaned out over the pretty stone balcony. Unlike the rest of the city, the hotel the party was being held in seemed to take her somewhere else; somewhere elegant and fresh. It was almost as if the hotel wasn't part of the city.

Her ears caught the sound of people talking at the other end of the balcony. "It's going to happen tonight?"

"Tonight," the other man said.

"Then what are we doing here?"

Robin adjusted herself carefully so she could hear better but still go unnoticed.

"We're making an appearance with our wives. It would be strange if we didn't do so."

"I don't think anyone would actually notice," he grumbled in reply.

"Tonight the Crane gets what he wants and we get what we want."

"More people to—"

There was the thick sound of a smack ringing through the air, "Not out loud!"

"Sorry. But tonight. When?"

"I have no idea. I wasn't informed of when it would—"

Robin was no idiot. It had only been a number of days, not even a week, since she last heard about the Crane. And now she knew that something was going to happen tonight and some rich people were in on it. Annoyance rang through her body when the balcony doors opened with a clutter.

Bruce Wayne just had a horrible habit of ruining all things good. That, and she really didn't want to talk to him after what he did for those kids in there. It might ruin her newly found good will towards him.

She listened with a wince to feet walking away. So much for hearing the rest of the conversation.

"Robin," he started, but she immediately cut him off.

"Miss Grayson, please." The look on her face was one of pure defiance. She was no friend of his, nor would she pretend to be.

He winced slightly, but kept his smirk in place, "Miss Grayson, then." He paused, looking back through the glass doors towards the chatting people. He was probably thinking that anything would be better than speaking to her.

"It's a good thing you're doing," she told him. It was strange how good it felt to say it, yet how much of her pride got wounded. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off again, "And don't say anything like 'I know' because that just makes you more cocky sounding and asshole-ish."

His smirk grew into a grin. She really wished that he wouldn't do that. It was quite disconcerting.

"Are you enjoying your evening, Grayson?"

"It would be better if you added a Miss onto my name," she told him.

"Miss Grayson."

"You're getting the hang of this. Very good!"

He rolled his eyes at her, "So are you enjoying your evening or not?"

"Somewhat. Well, I was. But then look who came around!"

"Made it even better, didn't I," he asked as he went to lean against the rail.

"Better. Sure, let's go with that."

The smirk dropped off his face, "I know that you heard what…"

Robin flinched. He didn't need to repeat what those girls said; hearing it once was enough. If he told her that she was underdressed for his party, she didn't care if he was a billionaire, she'd punch him in the face. "You don't need to—"

"No," he shook his head, his eyes trained on her face. "I really do." He studied her for a moment, "They… were wrong. You look great."

Robin smiled hesitantly at him, "Thanks. The Bruce Wayne complimenting me has to mean something, right?"

"It means more than something."

She stared at him. He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was turned towards the city. Sighing, she leaned against the rail with him, "It's strange, isn't it, that right out there is a dangerous city, yet it feels so far away."

"It's a little strange," he admitted.

"But of course," she continued, "The Bruce Wayne has seen stranger."

"Much stranger."

Robin grinned, "You know, what? Somehow it makes me feel just a little bit better knowing that out there is Batman, hopefully rescuing some innocent people."

He snorted, "No one is innocent."

"I know. And some are so young that I wish they were still innocent." She was referring to the children that he had brought to make an impact at the party. "A lot of children are beginning to lose their innocence so young."

Now she looked at him wearily. It had only just struck her that Wayne was one of those people who had lost his innocence early. His parents had been shot in front of his very eyes and nothing could prepare a child for that.

If he had any idea what she was thinking, he didn't show it, "I suppose that you're like one of those that had something tragic happen."

"No," she told him. "All of my family is still alive. And I didn't grow up in Gotham, I grew up in Chicago. I like to think that I grew up when I was supposed to grow up."

He looked surprised, "I thought that you lived in the Narrows."

"I do live in the Narrows. I just didn't live there all of my life." She looked out towards the city, blinking when she saw something strange, "What is that?"

One of the buildings towards the center of the city had something orange-ish coming out of it. It continued all the way around until Robin realized in horror what she was seeing. Someone was blowing up a building. Without much thought she turned around to see if Bruce saw it, but he was gone.

A/N: Holy crap! I just wrote that entire thing in one day! I don't think that I've ever written that much in one day. Did I do a good sort of actual conversation between Bruce and Robin? I don't know. I felt almost as though I was rushing it, but I was trying to be subtle. Actually, I dropped one huge but hopefully subtle hint that her feelings are beginning to change towards him a little. Anyone care to take a guess? Anyway, this might be the last chapter for at least two weeks since I'm going on vacation. I hope to get one more in, but I probably won't have time. Remember to review!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters. I do, however, own Robin, Luke, Mike, The Menia, and The Gotham People Magazine. Remember to read, review, and enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated. I want to say to all of you who seem to think that it's strange that Robin just doesn't tell somebody about what she's heard: she's a reporter. Good reporters do research and check facts. They don't blab a potential story.

Chapter Five

Robin looked around. Bruce Wayne was nowhere to be seen. Her hands tightened against their hold on the railing as she watched the building crumble. Everything was silent, but only for a few moments.

A woman noticed that something was going on in the city and she screamed. Suddenly, panic seemed to take hold of the crowd, although it was panic in a very easy way. Men and women ushered their dates through the entrance doors, probably to their million-dollar homes on the outskirts of Gotham.

Very few people actually acted panicked. There were those that screamed, some that couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at the falling building, but most acted calmly. They were veterans of the city, despite being elite, and knew what to do in a situation like this. And that was run for cover.

She found herself being pushed by a steady hand into the crowd. She looked up to see Luke towering over her, trying to make his way through the crowd. He smiled down at her as his hand slipped to the small of her back, "Do I sense a story or what?"

Robin glanced back at the building. "Like they are going to let us anywhere near the place."  
He shrugged, his blonde hair glinting from the chandelier light, "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"You have a plan," she said, with eyes narrowed.

"Nothing more than what I usually do."

"And what do you usually do?"

He grinned at her before flashing his wallet, "Always carry around a little bit extra. It'll be made up later."

"Bribe the police!"

"No," he scoffed. A few people were looking at them wearily at her outbreak, but Luke smiled and motioned for them to keep walking. "There are going to be ambulances going in. Bribe the people driving the ambulances to carry us in."

"Let me guess. You have a contact."

The grin couldn't be knocked off of his face. It was almost as annoying as Bruce's smirk. She grumbled, but followed him into the cold streets of winter Gotham.

She hailed the taxi while he talked busily on his phone.

"No, I need this…" He looked annoyed, "You owe me. Do you remember that time that— I am not dating your sister!… It was not a one-night stand and no, we are not going out… Good, corner of fifth, we'll be there… Yes, there are two of us… No I am not paying you extra, just be there you god…. Thank you."

"Corner between Fifth and West, please."

The cab driver looked at him as though he was crazy, "It's going to be crazy down there. A building has just been—"

"We know," he said, cutting the poor man off, "That's why we want to go there."

He shook his head and went back to driving.

At her questioning look, Luke said, "That was my contact. He'll pick us up there."

"Won't people get suspicious when they notice that there are two people clearly not doctors or police inside the nice yellow tape they'll have set up?"

"You wouldn't believe what people will ignore."

"For a little money," she quipped.

"Don't get smart." He grinned at her as he looked out the window, "There seems to be a heck of a lot of traffic… going the other way."

"Imagine that."

As it was, Robin couldn't keep her eyes off the people on the sidewalks. There had to be hundreds of people moving in the opposite direction of the building. In fact, they were really the only people going towards the center of the city.

"Here's your drop off," the cab said.

Both scurried out and Luke quickly paid the cab driver. He seemed more than happy to get away from the site of the explosion. He probably thought of it as an opportunity to make a ton of money in one night. After all, there were hundreds of costumers just waiting for a ride.

Outside, it had gotten unbelievably cold in the ten minutes they had been driving for. Just another reminder that it was getting closer to Christmas, and getting closer to Christmas meant having to spend time with the family.

Ambulances rushed by, but none made a stop. Finally a tag along slowly pushed up to the curve. A door swung open and Luke motioned for her to get in the moving vehicle.

"You cannot be serious."

"Yet I am," he replied, already going for the ambulance.

Robin was quick to follow. Two steady hands helped hoist her into the back. She found herself staring into the pale and worried face of the medics. None of them seemed inclined to speak, so she didn't either.

The commotion only grew greater and greater as they neared the building. Some people were screaming and crying, but she couldn't see them. She could only hear the sound of their voices and that was worse. That was so much worse.

Sirens blazed through the air. Robin was clenched with fear and dread and excitement. Luke seemed to be wearing those same feelings on his face.

He looked at her, "Nervous?"

She only smiled weakly in reply. This would be her first time really getting to the scene of a newsworthy story.

The vehicle halted and the medical personnel jumped out. Robin and Luke were soon to follow.

The block of the explosion was complete confusion. Most people had gotten out of the area, but a few were still going out or screaming that they couldn't find their family or friends. Since the actual explosion appeared to be in an abandoned warehouse, she doubted that their families were in any immediate danger. Unless, of course, they were the homeless merely trying to try a place to stay in hard times.

Luke had disappeared into the crowd, snapping pictures. He motioned for Robin to follow him, but she couldn't. There were firemen and police trying to push her out of the boundaries that they had set up. She struggled to get out her reporter badge and it wasn't until he finally made his way over to her and shook hands (bribing, perhaps?) that they let her go freely.

Her throat constricted as he got a tight grip on her arm and led her through the crowd.

"Come on," he said. "You need to start interviewing."

She knew that. Any sane reporter would know that. But so much seemed to be going on! Everyone was so busy and running. First hand accounts of what had happened would be impossible to get. Then there were the connections that she had heard earlier, between the gangsters, the rich, and the explosion. It was no coincidence, that much she knew.

Luke disappeared again, thinking that she could find her way on her own. But this was her first time anywhere like this, and most first time reporters, real reporters, usually shadowed a more experienced one for at least a little while. Robin never had that small luxury.

People shoved her out of their way, a mix of people scrambling to do their jobs. Eventually she found herself merely watching from the shadow of a building as the world revolved around her.

There were sudden screams. Robin looked up to find herself staring at three men, three very familiar men, hanging from a dark rope of some kind.

In awe, she felt herself drifting towards them, closer and closer. Someone bumped into her, a nice looking man with glasses and graying hair.

Another officer came up to greet him while he mumbled apologies to her.

"Gordon, we think it might be—"

"The bat," Gordon finished for him, sending a curious glance towards Robin. It must have only started to occur to him that she wasn't wearing any uniform or anything that would promote her to being in the area.

As for her, she found herself thinking that of course it was Batman. No one else would have the… Sense… Stupidity… pure unadulterated masculinity… to go after the guys. She grinned, thinking about how he probably just appeared and captured him, with no problem at all.

"Get them down," Gordon said. He turned back to her as she tried to sink back into the shadows. Inside, she was begging for him to just turn away, like other people were doing. "What are you doing in here?"

"I- I. I don't—I didn't," she stuttered. What was there to say? Not for the first time, she wished that her particular brand of braininess allowed better excuses. It was one thing to be able to argue with people, but to lie? Not her area of expertise.

"She's with me," a dark voice said.

They both whipped around at the same time. Standing before them, hiding in visibility, was Batman. Gordon, surprisingly, didn't seem to have any problem with this, despite the obvious bounty on his head, "What have you got on these guys that we can use?"

"Caught at the scene of the crime."

"I need more than the word of a vigilante. The city wouldn't like the fact that I'm taking your word, let alone the fact that I've seen you countless times."

He looked towards Robin and handed her an envelope, "What we need is a straight reporter who isn't going to be influenced by anything other than the truth."

She slowly opened the envelope, revealing countless photos and recounts of the men buying supplies to create the bomb, a few even assembling it. There were e-mails that accounted for specific times and dates for everything that had just happened. And finally there was a video.

"That video," he said, "is a copy of the security video from this building. Watch carefully and you just might learn a few things." He handed a similar package to Gordon, "After all, good reporters and cops have sources. This is just an anonymous one."

Robin felt her throat constrict. This was all just so much, in so little time. How did he count her as a trust worthy person? Had he been _watching_ her?

That wouldn't actually be so bad. Having the masked avenger of the city keeping a sort of watch on her was pretty cool. She wouldn't have to worry so much about walking down her street. That, and he was brutally hot. Even if she couldn't see his face.

She suddenly became aware that Batman was talking to her again. "What was that?"

Batman repeated, "If this is too much responsibility, there are other ways to get the story out."

After a moment's hesitation she told him, "This is what I'm becoming a reporter for."

"Send your article to a man by the name of Morey at the _Gotham Times_. Unlike most editors, he won't write you off as easily as most would."

The name sounded familiar to her. "Isn't he… isn't he the Editor in Chief of the _Times_?"

Gordon snorted and muttered something under his breath that Robin couldn't understand.

"And he's trustworthy."

Robin screwed up her nose and glanced down at the things in her hands, vaguely aware that Gordon was shuffling through his, too. "Why are you-" she went silent when she discovered that Batman was gone, "doing this."

When she turned her questioning gaze onto Gordon, he merely shrugged, "He tends to do that sometimes."

Robin continued staring where he once had been. This was the life of a vigilante. Being there one moment, gone the next.

--

She woke up groggy the next morning, not just from the late night of interviewing and sifting through Batman's information, but also from writing an article on it later. Hailey, however, didn't seem to care about her roommate's long night. She burst into the room and threw a thick paper onto her bed. In her most serious voice, she said, "You have got to be kidding me."

Robin blinked a few times before slowly picking up the Times magazine. **Life of the rich and famous brought to life **the title read. It sounded like the title of a tabloid, but it wasn't. Pride swelled in her chest. Her first major article had made front page.

"Shit, do you realize what you're doing," Hailey asked, sitting down on the bed.

Robin raised her eyes to look at her friend. "What are you talking about?"

"You single-handedly made enemies out of the top of Gotham society! You're in no position to be messing around with people like that!"

This wasn't optimistic Hailey. This wasn't the girl that was normally bouncing around the apartment. Instead, she was replaced by someone who was jumping at her own shadow. Robin winced. "Don't worry about me."

"I'm worried about all of us."

Hailey looked out the window to the streets below. The pride and joy that had once overtaken her ceased. She hadn't thought certain things through. Like how her life wasn't the only one in danger, but those of her family and friends, the people she lived with every day.

"You should have thought things through better, Robin. Even I'm not stupid enough to have put my actual name on an article like this! Did you ever think of the other people in this place?"

Robin gulped. "I'm so sorry, Hailey. But trust me, I don't think that there's anything to worry about."

Not with Batman somewhere around, watching out for her. There was no doubt in her mind that while _she_ hadn't thought about the repercussions of the article, _he_ had. It seemed unspoken that he would still look out for her. Part of her knew that it would include people important to her. And if anyone needed help, it was Hailey.

She winced inwardly at the thought. When she had met Hailey, the girl had been optimistic, but strangely dark and weird. Robin needed a roommate and Hailey fit the bill. But there were some things going into it that had to be explained.

Hailey's father had been a lawyer who had done some shady things in his past. And it caught up with him. A few of the mob bosses took it upon themselves to have him killed, along with the rest of his family. Sort of a no-one-to-carry-along-his-genes thing. Hailey escaped several attempted killings and was going into hiding. The name Hailey, of course, was an alias, and Robin didn't know her real name. Nor did she really want to know. That would make things more complicated.

Through everything, Hailey made sure that her friends were safe. Robin couldn't say the same.

"God, I'm an idiot," she said.

Hailey shrugged, "We all do stupid things. Don't do it again." There was a pause. "Do you really think that we'll be safe?"

Robin shrugged, "I think so."

Hailey smiled weakly, "Good." The smile grew wider, "This article is _amazing_, though! I almost couldn't believe that you wrote it. Where'd you get your information?"

"An anonymous source."

"I get it, I get it. It's a magician thing isn't it?"

"Never share a secret."

"Oh, and," Hailey said, "Your mom sent us all tickets to go see their show. It's coming to town soon. Are we going to go?"

There were few things that Robin was really, truly grateful for. A friend who understood her position with her parents was one of them.

"Maybe."

Her roommate smiled, "Good. Because the show is supposed to be awe-inspiringly fantabulously great."

Robin grinned, but glanced somewhat forlornly down at the paper. What had Batman gotten her into?

A/N: Alright! Done with this chapter and back from vacation. Anyone else watch Phelps swim? I know I did! Anyway. Remember to review!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters. I do own Robin. I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter. Guess whose back. Back again. Hiroshikata's back. Tell a friend. So, sorry that I've been gone. I know, I know. Shame on me. It's been like, two months. Sorry! Remember to read, review, and enjoy!

Chapter 6

There came a certain amount of fame with getting two relatively major articles published. The most obvious came from _The Gotham People Magazine_. Many, many women wrote in saying how informative it was on a man that few people seemed to really know. Smith told her to watch out for articles to start coming to her instead of to other people. Robin couldn't say that she was exactly sorry about it, either.

The layout for the article looked good. Her words seemed to jump of the page, and some quotes were in colored boxes (although most of those were direct quotes from Bruce—not her). And then there were the pictures.

Bruce Wayne did not need a particularly good photographer. After meeting the man many times, she would grudgingly admit that he was a good enough looking guy to make any picture look great. However, this photographer was fantastic. There were pictures of him staring into the camera, in a Porsche, and working a suit. A few pictures were from the Gala; a few depicted him in everyday wear. There were times when his eyes just seemed to see _through_ you. It was needless to say that Marissa bought an extra copy and pasted each and every picture on the refrigerator.

"I need something to make me get up in the morning," she claimed.

Robin could do nothing more than roll her eyes at the feeble explanation. Since Hailey had no qualms ("He does look good. Smokin' hot good."), there was no reason to take the pictures down.

It also came as no surprise that the man who did the photo spread was Luke. Well, it should have come as no surprise. In reality, she was shocked that one of the best photographers in the world took the pictures that accompanied _her_ article. Giddy butterflies spread in her stomach at the mere thought. Or maybe that was just thinking of Luke…

The attention she got from her article in _The Gotham Times_ wasn't nearly so large. Instead it did exactly what Batman probably wanted it to do. It opened people's eyes and made them question exactly what was wrong in the city.

Only when Morey called her personally to tell her the type of letters, e-mails, and phone calls the paper was starting to receive. People wanted to have officials and officers who actually did their job. They wanted people who would make them safe and be uncorrupted. It was something that had been voiced for years, but hadn't really gotten the attention it deserved.

From what she heard, an attorney named Harvey Dent was doing his personal best to put criminals in their place: jail. She only hoped that he succeeded.

More and more judges, lawyers, and police officers were beginning to turn up who wouldn't be bristled at the thought of having to take down some of Gotham's top mob bosses. Although that was more Batman's influence than hers.

"I've got a meeting at the _People_," Robin called out into the apartment room.

There were a few mumbles in reply, but nothing stood out. With a shrug, she headed out the door.

In daylight, the Narrows didn't look quite as scary as it usually did. However, it was still bad. On nearly every street corner and in the alleys were homeless, gathered together. Mothers walked quickly with their children, avoiding catcalls and obscene comments. And, of course, there were the drug dealers handing out goods. It shouldn't have surprised her that they were bold enough to sell during the day in the wide open, but it did. Lack of police coverage led to no fear of being caught doing anything.

The sound of shattering glass brought her attention to a corner where a couple of teenage boys were throwing rocks at the windows of a building, jeering.

"Do you want a piece of me?"

"Stupid bitch, get down here if you want to say something!"

An old woman who was more than a little gray replied, "Get out of here, assholes."

There were more howls and Robin couldn't help but think that the woman was in more trouble than it was worth. People in these parts never gave up grudges, not when it was so easy to shoot the person you hated.

Even with this in mind, Robin couldn't understand what possessed her to say, "Hey, leave her alone."

And one by one each one of the teenagers turned to stare at her. She gulped, but stood her ground.

One of the boys elbowed the other, "She's kinda hot, man."

Robin's lip curled in disgust. Inconspicuously, she reached for her can of pepper spray, keeping her eyes on the boys.

"She's a fucking bitch," another one said. "A priss."

The one who appeared to be the leader smirked at her, "What do you say, babe. Want to go a round?"

She sneered at him, hand firmly clutched on the spray that was inside of her purse, "I don't 'go a round' with little boys."

"Little," the one who called her a bitch said. "If anything, I am not little."

"Pig."

The guys laughed, taking a menacing step closer to her. In seconds she had the pepper spray out and aimed at them.

"Ohhh, what's she going to do with that?"

"She's got a can of pepper spray. How cute."

The guys jeered at her while edging closer. Distaste and fear were all spread out on her face as she stepped back. Where was Batman when you needed him? And for that matter, when did kids start turning out so bad? Although, she couldn't really say much since she was only a few years older than them.

The old woman from above had, apparently, decided not to help her 'savior'. Robin heard the window slam shut and gulped. Figured that down in the Narrows she wouldn't get saved herself after performing the good deed of the year. She knew she should have just walked on by, let people mind their own business.

The steps that the guys were taking towards her were getting quicker and quicker. Thinking quickly, and realizing that help wasn't going to be coming anytime in the near future, she took off running. Not that she thought that the jerks were going to leave her alone just because she decided to run away. They'd probably think it was _cute_. Everyone knew that cute was a codeword for 'someone whose looks I don't really care for because I'm just going to rape her and leave.'

Vomit bubbled up in her throat at the thought of rape. It was general occurrence in the Narrows, but not something anyone got used to. And it was certainly something she never thought would happen to her.

"Batman," she yelled, glancing behind her. They were definitely still following. "Where the _hell_ are you when I need you?"

Apparently saviors didn't watch around the clock. Then again, did Batman even go out in the daylight? He was like a vampire or something…

"You can't run forever," one guy yelled.

Robin pumped her legs as hard as she could. Sure, she couldn't run _forever_, but maybe with any luck she would be able to _outrun_ them.

"Shouldn't you guys be in school or something? What are you, in the second grade?"

"Bitch! Get back here."  
She skidded down an alley. Probably not her smartest choice considering the circumstances, but no one had exactly come running to the rescue when she needed it.

Batman might have been making Gotham a safer place to walk in during the night, but what about the daytime? Clearly that has only gotten to be even more dangerous. Some criminals were beginning to learn his game.

She knocked over trashcans and stumbled over things that she didn't have the time to look at. All she could think of was that she had to get away.

And then there was someone in front of her. An angel of sorts, perhaps. Or maybe just another devil.

It was much more likely that he was just a devil, another man out to rape an innocent woman… or worse. After all, he was wearing a strange burlap mask to cover his face. She doubted that he was another Batman figure in disguise.

The guys stumbled to a stop behind her, "C-crane."

"Get out of my sight." His voice was quiet, calm, and demanding. There was something alien and vicious, though, hidden in its depths.

He turned towards her slowly. Robin could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Something told her that this wasn't exactly a case of love at first sight.

"So you're Robin."

She made no move to answer. He took it as an affirmative.

"You've been causing me some trouble lately. And I'm just _so_ sorry that we have to do this."

When she was about to ask, "Do what," a hand covered her mouth and another went around her neck. Then the black started to sink in.

--

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the horrible stench. The air was filled with a mix of human stench, waste, and something sickly sweet. It was almost like rotten fruit, just so much worse.

"H-hello," she croaked out.

There were a few moans in reply and it was then that she realized there was a clammy hand resting on her arm. Robin let out a small scream and scrambled away. What she was met with almost made her vomit.

There had to be at least thirty people in this… metal cage with her. The lights flickered above and didn't provide much to see with, but it was scary nonetheless. People's eyes were completely hollow as they stared at her. There was no emotion in them. Like a blind person, there was no focus on any particular object.

When they finally seemed to realize that someone new was with them, they sprang into action.

"What's going on in the outside world?"

"Are you going to try and help us?"

"Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am?"

They were asking questions that she wouldn't have the faintest idea as how to answer. And as to helping them… she didn't even know where she was. She couldn't even help herself.

Most of the people were dressed like those of the middle-class. There were a few people in suits, others in workout clothes, street clothes, everything. Only two or three people were dressed in tatters.

One man stood up and held out a hand. Everyone started to go silent, "She clearly doesn't know any more than any of us." He looked back down at her. Middle-aged, one of those who dressed in a suit, and clearly someone of authority among this group. She stayed silent as he questioned her. "What's your name?"

"Robin."

"John," he held out a hand, which she gratefully shook. "Do you have any idea where you are or why you were taken?"

She shook her head.

A woman with dark hair and a baby in her arms said, "We're in a drug-testing facility of some sort."

Robin looked around again. There was nothing to see through the shaky light. We were in a room, in a cage. Nothing else.

"How do you know that?"

She shrugged and held her baby closer, "They told us when we came here. For the good of mankind, we would be tested."

Robin blinked, "They just… captured you."

John now shrugged, "None of this particularly has to do with mankind. I think that they are creating some sort of super drug to do…"

Everyone was silent. Finally, she asked, "So where is everyone?"

If this was a drug-testing facility, shouldn't there at least have been some sort of guard or personnel wandering around the place?  
"We're guessing that it's late night, early morning right now. Even _they_ need sleep."

They, she supposed, was a reference to her captors.

"Do we have any chance of escape?"

Now that she had identified John as a leader of sorts, she turned to him for all of her answers. "None of us have tried. Before we came, people told us that those that tried to escape were killed on sight."  
"Who told you that?"

John shrugged, "It doesn't matter. They're dead now."

His last words hung in the air like a hazy fog. Robin found herself flinching before turning away.

No one else was looking at her. They were spread in uneven, tight clusters on the dirty, oily-looking floor. Most looked as though they hadn't been touch, but others were slightly black and blue in the face.

Robin sat down and buried her face in her hands, trying to think. When no thoughts came to her mind, she cried. Where was Batman to get her out of _this_ mess?

--

When she woke up, long after her mostly-silent tears and jumbled thoughts, it was to the sound of screaming. She let out a muffled gasp herself before looking around. No one was looking at each other. The woman with the baby was hanging onto her for dear life, whispering words that Robin couldn't quite understand.

"He was taken last night, along with three other girls," John whispered into her ear. "They've been tested on twice before. Unless they get lucky, they probably won't come back."

Her face contorted with shock at the news. And she was also horrified by the lack of compassion in these people's faces. Shouldn't they have been feeling something? But, then again, they probably knew that this would be the end for them, too. Silent tears fell down her face again.

The screams continued for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes. "A half hour, tops," a teenage girl with stringy blonde hair informed her. "I've been counting the seconds."

Robin wrapped her arms around herself, "Does this happen often?"

"The screaming? Yeah. All the time."

"And you're not bothered by it?"

She shrugged, puffy eyes turned towards the ground. "We've estimated that I've probably been in here for two weeks. After that amount of time, you get used to things."

She didn't seem proud of herself.

"How do they take the people?"

The blonde's eyes shifted from left to right. "They come with guns when there is newbies. But, those who have been here a while know. We back off and just let them take us."

When she bent over, her shirt rode up to reveal a number of bruises and scrapes. She grimaced.

The girl looked down, "Oh. I didn't get these here. I live on the streets and…"

"I live in the Narrows, too."

The girl nodded, more than a little bit happy that she didn't have to explain. There was a hooded look in the girl's eyes… like she was hiding something important, something that was tearing her up inside, but she didn't want to say it. Instead she said, "My name is Selina… you've got really pretty hair."

The girl reached out to finger Robin's dark hair.

"Thank you," she replied rather quickly. She wasn't used to being given compliments, especially not in this sort of situation. "I'm Robin."

"That's a pretty name."

The girl slumped against the bars on the ground. For a few seconds, the screaming in the other room came to a stop. And then it started up again, only this time, ten times worse.

As if to cover up the sound of screaming, Selina said, "You want to know the real reason that no one here has tried to escape?"

One of Robin's eyebrows lifted and she fixed the younger girl with a curious gaze.

"It's because they think we're going to be _rescued_. Like Batman is going to come save us or something. They don't want to take any risks because they think there is a chance, however slim or impossible, that we won't have to get hurt. I know better. The only way we're going to get out of here is if we do it ourselves."

Robin rested her head against the bars, noticing that those sitting close enough to them to hear were glaring at Selina. This probably wasn't the first time that she brought up the subject. "And how do you propose escape?"

She hadn't even seen what was going on or how people were taken. She knew nothing and probably wasn't clever enough to come up with a half decent plan. But Selina had been here long enough to be planning things. Maybe she had a plan.

"I don't know."

Or maybe not.

"But we can do it somehow, if we all put our heads together."

Someone in the cage muttered, "We have a better chance of being rescued by Batman."

--

Robin didn't know how long she had been held captive. All she knew was that the next time she woke up, it was to the sounds of gunfire. People shot awake around her, wondering what was going on.

Billy, an accountant at an up-and-coming law firm, crawled to the back of the group, as if hoping that they would shield him from whatever was going on. Delaney, the mother, also made her way to the back of the cage, but with good reason. She had a baby to protect. Everyone else flattened on the ground.

It took a few minutes to realize that the gunfire wasn't coming from _inside_ the room, but _out_. This started mutterings of "what's happening" and "what are they doing". Two people had been taken away at least a day before and maybe they had tried to escape.

The men who held them captive were screaming and shouting something. There was the sound of thunk, thunk, thunk against the wall before more gunfire and dogs barking.

Robin shivered. The dogs were the worse. Sometimes they put them in the room just to scare the captives. The ferocious beasts would snap their jaws right up against the bars, thirsty for blood.

The next thing they heard was laughter. It was coming from the men. She looked around to see what the reactions were of the people, and it wasn't good. Most hoped that the two tried to escape, and if they did… well, it was clear that they didn't make it very far.

The thick metal door swung open and revealed three of the guards, dragging a limp figure between them. "Boss should be happy about this capture. The _Batman_!"

The other two laughed along with him. Neither one seemed curious enough to stop and tear the mask from his face and see who it was. And why should they? Maybe they had orders from Crane to not ruin the surprise.

Guns out, they opened the door to the cage and threw the man inside. Slowly, laughing and joking, they made their way out.

As for the captives… they were shocked. Robin was shocked. How could anyone capture Batman? He was like a mountain in a hurricane. Unmovable.

She edged closer to him and gasped when she saw the wounds on his side. All along his arms and legs there were bite marks, oozing blood. More of his black uniform was torn and bloody, too, although it looked as though he had not gotten directly hit by any bullets, just grazed.

"How the hell do you get him out of this thing," she muttered, searching for a way to loosen the suit.

Finally she managed to find a loose spot in the mask and slowly eased it over his head. No one else seemed to have qualms with what she was doing and finally she took the entire mask off.

"B-Bruce…"

The sight of his blood-matted head made her stop and stare. He was completely out cold and not completely visible, but there was no mistaking who this man was. Unless, of course, her mind was playing cruel tricks on her.

He didn't answer, of course.

"What's going on," John called out to her.

"I-I-"

What did she want to say? I can't believe it? I need help? Goddamn, I was right, Batman is a fine piece of ass? Words escaped her.

When she heard someone moving closer, though, she yelled, "Stay back!"

Any talking that was going on inside the room deceased. People were scared and frightened and now that their knight in shining armor was captured…

"Is something wrong?"

She didn't answer, instead looked towards her clothes. She could contemplate the fact that Batman was Bruce Wayne later. Right now she needed to stop all of the bleeding that was happening.

"Jeremiah, I need you to tear strips of cloth from your cloths."

It was the only thing that she knew about bandaging. You needed clean bandages for a patient, so their wounds didn't get infected. His probably would anyway, but this would at least stop any immediate consequences.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the air. "Here." She turned around to grab the pieces and when she did, it revealed a little bit of his face to everyone in the room.

"Is that Bruce Wayne?"

"Money bags is running around the city saving us," another person gasped.

Robin cringed as she heard what people were saying. There was no way that Bruce's secret would stay a secret now... as he clearly wanted it.

Gently, she shook him, trying to make him wake. "Bruce," she whispered, "Bruce."

It was no use. He was completely out. Slowly, she fell back onto the cold, dirty ground and stared. If he really was Batman, really, truly was... they were all royally screwed.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Remember to review!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any related characters. Sorry I've been away for so long. There are three main reasons for this: 1) scholarship/college work, 2) I'm in love with my NaNoWriMo and am dying to finish it, and 3) I kind of… lost… the outline… to this fic. I'm going to search high and low and hopefully I'll find it. Anything that was on it and not included in this chapter may be included in the next. However, I had thirteen total chapters planned and while I remember the last couple, I don't want to wing all the details. All of the plot holes I could see relied on me knowing what those notes said. Anyway. I hope you read, enjoy, and review!

Chapter 7

John was the first to come up to her. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking with fright. Selina was staring at them, too, but her eyes were narrowed and contemplative. Robin felt that no girl her age should look so old at such a time.

"What's going to happen now," John asked, sitting down beside her. Sometime over the course of things, he had taken to talking to her, to trying to figure out what she knew and why she knew it. She was disappointed that she didn't know enough for him.

"I don't know," Robin looked down at Bruce's pale face cradled in her lap. "We need to get him out of here, though. Batman's not immortal."

John studied her and him quietly for a few moments, "You know him, don't you?"

"First rate ass. But if he's willing to risk his life to save ours, who am I to talk?" She couldn't exactly say that she had the bravery or foolhardiness that went with being the city's hero.

She looked around. People's faces were crestfallen and shocked. Seeing Bruce Wayne prancing around like Batman did wonders to their sense of justice in the world. Robin thought that maybe they considered Bruce Wayne a point of balance in their lives. They considered him something that kept the rich, rich and the poor, poor.

"How do you propose we get out of here?"

Robin shrugged. There was no way that they could escape. She would be stupid if she thought there was. "I've got nothing," she sighed, absentmindedly running her fingers through Bruce's hair. While she didn't notice that she was doing this comforting action on her own, Selina's pointed look drew her gaze down towards her wayward hand. Turning red, she pulled away and rested the offending limb safely on the ground. "Trust me, though, he can't stay here."  
"We need to get him out of here," a man towards the back of the cage agreed. Everyone whipped around to look at him. He was lanky and unnoticeable, probably around twenty-five or twenty-six. His hair was a greasy blond and unkempt, he looked her square in the eyes, "If not for us, then for Gotham."

A mother holding her child shook with anger, "What do you mean, if not for us. We want to escape, too."

"There is a way to get out of here," he continued as if the woman had never spoken. "And that is to revolt."

The word revolt hung in the air like the foul stench of their unbathed skin. It was what people feared, what people were dancing around whenever escape came into conversation. This man, though, had no problem with the concept of revolting. In fact, he looked proud at his suggestion, if the glint in his eye were any suggestion.

"What does a revolt do but kill us," the woman hissed harshly. Her eyes were on the door, watching for guards. "I won't have that happen to my child!"  
John looked between them, almost in a way that said he was considering what the man was saying. However, he didn't say anything, instead waited for him to continue.

"Batman is the one hope this city had," the man said once the woman had calmed down and just resumed glaring at him. "We are but a few of the people he's tried to help, tried to save. He's saved more people than we can even count. We wouldn't even make up a percentile of that." He paused, closed his eyes, then opened them quickly, taking in everyone in the room. "If Gotham loses Batman, Gotham loses hope. Without hope, Gotham will be lost. We'll probably die, I'll admit that. But what's a few deaths when there are millions of people to save?"

Everyone was silent, mulling over his deep words. There was reason to his plead of madness. Who cared if they died? Ten, twenty people, it wasn't unusual in Gotham. However, if they helped Batman, if Batman survived, then the casualties probably wouldn't be quite so great. He had saved many lives. But, Robin reflected, he couldn't save them all.

"I'm in," she said, deciding that it was better to die fighting than to live on her knees. Her hand had returned to Bruce's hair and she decided that she wasn't going to move it. She needed some form of comfort if they were practically going to undergo suicide, and if that comfort was Bruce Wayne's hair, then who was she to deny the comfort?

Selina raised a shaky hand in the air, "I guess I'm in."

A few more people grumbled, but finally raised their hands and agreed to the plan. Slowly, everyone nodded or said the affirmative vote. The only person left was the mother and her child. "I'm not risking the life of my child!"

Everyone was silent. It was something they hadn't thought about. If they risked their lives, they were also risking the life of someone who had never really had a chance to live. The girl's frightened gaze was on Robin and she flinched. No, risking the life of this child wasn't something she could live with.

Bruce stirred in her lap and her head whipped down. His eyes were barely open and a hand was reaching out slowly, finally resting on the skin of her cheek. His fingers slid down her smooth skin and finally he whispered, "Robin."

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she resisted the urge to jump up and run to the other side of the cage. This… what… What was Bruce doing? But she didn't move, only continued to watch as his fingers splayed over her skin.

"I will protect you," he said, strength returning to his voice. "I promised."

His hand dropped down and he turned to the mother and her child. Robin could feel his body shaking and grimaced. She only wondered where he was able to find the strength to do all that he was doing.

He said nothing, though, when he looked at them. The little girl calmed down and slipped out of her mother's arms and walked hesitantly to Bruce, "Are you going to save us, Mister?"

Tears welled in Robin's eyes at the sweetness of it and she looked away.

"I can try," he said, a painful laugh making its way to her ears. He looked back up and her and said, "When they come back in here, create a distraction. Wait for them to open the gate."

She nodded, still staring at the strong man in her lap. He smiled at her with the famous Bruce Wayne, Playboy Extraordinaire smile before his eyes closed and his breathing gained a normal pace. She looked up at everyone and they stared back at her, "Well, are you ready," she asked. They looked away and a few nodded and muttered, "As ready as I'll ever be."

-----

They didn't come for hours. Maybe Doctor Crane was busier than he let on. Robin shivered at the thought and stared down at Bruce. He hadn't woken up yet and she was afraid that he wouldn't ever wake up, at least not in time to help save them. They had put on his mask some hours before, John claiming that if all else failed, they needed to keep his identity a secret.

Her hands clasped the metal bars behind her back, gripping them tightly as if letting go would mean death. For the past three hours, it had seemed like her eyes were either trained on the door or on Batman… Bruce Wayne. Robin shook her head and glanced quickly around the cage before turning back.

The door opened.

Light streamed into the room and Robin squinted, blinded by the light. Two men stepped into the room: two familiar guards… and Doctor Crane. She bit the inside of her cheek and turned to Bruce. He was still fast asleep.

Guns were pointed at them and one of the guards jingled the keys to the gates, grinning maliciously into the dark. A key slid into a keyhole and soon they were putting in the proper codes and doing the procedures familiar to getting into the cage. One of the men was already pointing his gun at a woman, motioning with it for her to get up. Shakily, she did as she was bidded, sparing a quick, scared glance with Robin. Slowly she made her way to the doors as they opened them. _Distract them._

Robin wasted no time and started pounding on the bars with her fists as hard as she could. The cage began to rattle as the sound echoed through the room. People in the back followed her example, rattling and pounding on the bars to the cage.

"Quit it and shut up," shouted one of the guards, shooting two warning shots into the ceiling.

No one did as he ordered. Instead, even more people joined in the noise making, trying to make as much of a distraction as they could. Robin wondered if some of them weren't also worried about Batman, hoping that he would wake up in time to save them. She closed her eyes and went back to the task at hand.

"I'm warning you," the man roared. Or, tried to roar. Half way through saying 'warning', there was a choked sound and Robin opened her eyes and whipped around to look at him. There was no sign as to what took him out, but the man was lying across the floor, leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Her eyes swept down to where Bruce had just been and saw nothing but a pile of dirt and puddle of dried blood where he had been.

The other guard started firing his gun anywhere he could and the people in the cage hit the dirt. Intelligent. Robin sneered at the man, wondering what he thought he was doing. It didn't take long for him to quit the firing, though. To her amazement, she watched as Bruce literally swooped through the air, landing on the guard. He ripped the gun from his hands and flung it across the room before pummeling him once, hard, into the ground. The man was out cold.

Glancing around revealed that Crane had taken his time to leave, sneaking out the back way instead of staying to fight like a man… or like one of his goons. Robin planned to make him the center of her next article. Imagine what people would say, hearing about a man like this and what he was doing.

Bruce was out the door, checking around the halls, "It's clear," he gruffly called back into the room.

Robin motioned for everyone to go before her, deciding that taking up the lead was the best of the plans. She watched as he handed the gun to John and told him, "Lead."

It wasn't a request, but an order. Robin grinned, happy to have the too-sure Bruce that she knew back. The one before, injured and bleary made her nervous. Her hand went to her cheek, remembering the way that he had caressed it earlier. Clearly just the lack of blood taking hold of his mind.

She filed out behind everyone, Bruce beside her. "Good job, Bat Boy."

"Whatever," he grunted.

Robin turned to look at him, fully prepared to give him the talking-down he deserved. Something made her stop. He looked mostly normal, except for the slight tilt in his step. "Bruce?"

He grunted again, this time falling forward.

"Bruce!"

She reached out to catch him, but was too slow. Luckily, the lanky man from earlier was trailing behind, too, and turned just inside to catch the falling hero. With some difficulty and help from another man, they lifted him between their shoulders, lugging him along. Robin bit her bottom lip with worry, but kept tabs on what was happening around. The last thing they needed was to end up being trapped by more of Crane's minions.

----

Air was a blessing. It was calm, cool, and tranquil. It also allowed a breath of fresh air that was thwarted quickly by the stench of unwashed bodies. They walked for what seemed like a long time. Still in the narrows, Robin noted, but not like before. Nothing like before. Gun shots could be heard, along with the infernal sound of screeching car tires. Eventually they came to a small park, no doubt filled with the homeless and murderers, and stopped. John made them gather around in a circle before spilling. "No one knows Batman's identity."

A few people started to protest, but others in the crowd shushed them quickly. Robin smiled. At least Bruce wouldn't have to worry too much about his identity getting out. Not that she cared. Stupid millionaire… billionaire… whatever he was.

"Think about this. Knowing Batman's identity will cause more harm than good. His enemies will come after you, along with everyone else who hates him. Nobody knows."

Now everyone was nodding, seeing John's wisdom. Robin was amazed about how trusting these people were of this man. He had been there leader in confinement, and now he was their leader in freedom.

"Who's Batman again, I forgot," a few people joked.

John continued talking, mostly about how it would be best if none of them had any contact again, and Robin took the opportunity to poke the two men in the back, "I can take him from here, boys."

"You sure," one of the men asked. The lanky man said nothing, instead looking like he was in pain and breaking down into a deep sweat.

"I'm sure. I'll hail a cab."

She had seen a few of them drive by, shuttling people to places. There was no doubt in her mind that she couldn't get one to stop somehow. And if not, she'd show a little leg. She snorted. Had that ever worked for anyone?

The one man offered to help her haul him to a street bench and she quickly agreed. There was no need for her to attempt to lug around the heavy man.

A cab did stop, eventually. She shoved Bruce inside and quickly followed telling the man, "657 Handbrook Street. The Narrows."

The cabdriver squinted his eyes at her, "Show me the money."

She groaned, knowing that she had forgotten about something, "Put it on Batman's tab," she said, jabbing her thumb at the masked crusader.

The cabbie snorted and said, "We get there, I get the money. And that's only because it's the first time I've heard that one. Where have you been, dressing up like that? Nice costume, he has."

Robin followed his speech with some difficulty and said, "Costume party. He likes to dress up like Batman on the weekends. Weirdo."

The cabbie grinned at her, but continued to drive in silence.

----

No one was home. The apartment was empty, it almost looked like it had been torn through at a fast pace. Maybe Hailey had been late for work, as she usually was, and needed to gather some things around. And Marissa was nearly always out, so there was no surprise there. Robin motioned for the cabbie to put Bruce on the couch and jumbled around the drawers in the kitchen for some cash. A dollar here, a dollar there, they really should invest in a money jar for situations like these. Despite how much she wanted to trust the nice cabbie, she didn't. Or rather, she couldn't. There was just something strange about the entire situation, one that was too good to be true. She kept an eye on him and made sure that knives were in reach.

Once she handed him the money, though, he muttered a quick goodbye and flew out the door, slamming it behind her. The sound vibrated off the walls and some dust fell from the ceiling. A light blinked hazardously.

There was no telling what she was going to do with Bruce. What was he doing, anyway, running around the city dressed like a flying rodent? Was he mad or just plain stupid? He had all the money in the world, yet he was risking his life for those of the citizens. Something about it brought a wayward smile to her lips as she looked at his form.

Boiling some water and grabbing some supplies from the bathroom, she set to work on what should have been done hours ago: cleaning his wounds. Getting the uniform off the second time was even worse than the firs. The thing was like a second skin against her body, she though red-faced. And the man did have a beautiful body, all planes and muscle and not a bit of fat. Just like what Marissa had been telling her all along.

She cringed as she wiped down the dried blood and slathered them in anti-bacterial cleaner. He groaned under her working hands and a small shiver ran down her spine. Not that. Stupid body. It was not supposed to react like that to Bruce Wayne. Give her Luke any day.

----

"Where the hell am I?"

Robin woke with a start, eyes wide and wild. What was going on? Was there someone else in her apartment? Did Marissa or Hailey bring home a crazy man?

Then it all came back to her. The torture. The escape. Everything. Robin groaned and shouted, "Shut up for a second, would you?"

The sound of feet rushing towards her and her door ripping open, ripping off of its hinges. Bruce Wayne stood before her, half naked and eyes blazing, "Where am I?"

She had never seen him like this, angry and unsure of what was happening. It was like everything had been broken down and all that was left was the bare skeleton of what he usually was. Some people in another apartment yelled at them to shut up and find another place to have their fight. Bruce ignored them, eyes on her. Robin wasn't sure if he recognized her or not.

"Just be quiet, you overgrown, over privileged, piece of ass," she shouted right back, trying to fight down her smile and bit down the bit of fear that was rising in her stomach. "And maybe I'll explain what's going on. If you're lucky. And, by the way, you really shouldn't be walking."

He glared at her, but calmed down and sat on the edge of her bed, "Tell me what happened."

"We escaped. Crane doesn't know that you're Batman. Everyone made a pact not to tell, either. That about sums it up."

"How do you know you can trust the people?"

"Don't know. That's why it's called trust. And I think they're kind of afraid of you, what with being a bat and all."

"I am not a bat," he said with exasperation.

"You're right," Robin agreed. "You just dress like one."

He gave her a solid stare before walking out the door and into the cramped kitchen. Robin followed him, grin still implanted on her face.

"You know what I don't get," she asked.

"What?"

"You could have been anything. Sharkman, Tigerman. Out of all of these wonderful, ferocious choices you chose to name yourself after a pesky flying rodent. Batman! Part bat, part man!"

She continued giggling, but slowed to a smile when she saw the serious expression on Bruce Wayne's face. For three seconds something hit her fast, so fast it almost knocked her out. One of the richest men in the world was standing in her dingy, trashy apartment that was hardly big enough to share with her three roommates. He didn't blink at the thought, but an embarrassed flush made its way onto her face.

"Sometimes, the rodent that flies is the thing we're most afraid of."

With that, he took off towards her front door, angry stride and all.

"Bruce, Mr. Wayne, Batman, whatever." He stopped, but didn't turn around. "There's something I want in exchange for keeping your serious."

"And what is that," he asked with a hollow voice.

She couldn't see his face, but could easily imagine the expression. Disappointment, anger, pity. It would be much like when she told her parents she would rather not be a circus performer.

"I want to be taught self-defense."

The silence between them was thick, so much so she could almost see it.

"Fine."

And then he was gone, striding out of her apartment like he owned it. Majestic. No, not Bruce Wayne, she berated. He was awe-inspiring.

A/N: This chapter was completely unedited, but I thought you all might like a little Christmas gift. So here I am, spreading the cheer. Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, to all (and any other holidays/non-holidays I may have missed). Sorry I'm a little late for you Hanukkah/Kwanzaa people.


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